Tales of Westros: The fox and the Hound
by Sataria.Zardania
Summary: "The hound killed the fox on the mountain." The Florent bastard comes back to King's Landing after time in Dorne. She makes new allies and enters the Game with unrelenting consequences. But she doesn't play alone. Time to release the Hound. Hound/OC
1. Chapter 1, King's Landing

Tales of Westros: The Hound and the Fox

Season 1, chapter 3.

Sandor had never dealt with the Florents much, Joffery Baratheon never had much of a reason to visit Highgarden. The Hound followed Joffery, never leaving him, and the boy had never gone so far south. He didn't care much either because from what he had heard they were nothing but flower loving pussies who had a knack for fighting every now and then. It was also common knowledge that Stannis Baratheon's-brother to King Robert Baratheon- wife, Selyne, was from house Florent of Brightwater, a keep in Highgarden.

The Florent Foxes. Cersei apparently thought them annoying but one name in particular was now causing her great agitation. Something about the Fox Bastard, and how she was coming to King's Landing. Hound couldn't help but over-heard her when he was around and she ranted about it, pouted to her husband the king, complained to her son Joffery and her brother Jamie. No one seemed to care except Joffery, who also seemed to know who she meant, andtwi in his young age simply followed his mother's lead.

"_Of course the bloody king never cares enough to correct that little brat_," Sandor thought to himself. He was with them now, standing by the royals as they entertained the Starks.

Cersei was overlooking a courtyard from an overhead balcony. Her youngest two children were playing while Sansa and Joffery sat talking, it was sad how the girl adored that boy Sandor remarked to himself. The other Stark girl, the annoying one, was off doing the Gods only knew what, good riddance. Sandor Clegane was standing by the King's side as he sat with Ned Stark and his Lannister wife.

She sat on a stone bench and looked down at the children, all blonde hair and blue eyes. "But why exactly does that Bastard feel the need to come to our gates? She has no place here in King's Landing."

Robert looked glum, "We go through this every time she comes to report. I've told you woman, stop pestering about it, Flowers is an important piece of politics. Her connections with Dorne are better than any warden I've ever sent there." Sandor saw the Queen's annoyance flash across her face. "Besides, she may be a bastard but she is still part of my side of the family, and so yours."

Ned knew how Cersei hated that remark. He knew who they meant, Flowers being the Florent bastard, who just so happened to be related to a Florent who married into the Baratheon family. Her mother, Rylene Florent, went to Dorne some time before Robert's Rebellion. She came back to Highgarden, with child, and had Flowers nine months later. She passed the baby off to a Measter and wetnurse and then sent her from house to house. That's what everyone knew, but the Hound had never seen her. He wasn't sure if her hair was Targaryen silver or Dayne brown to blonde, he didn't care either way, she was bastard bitch.

Cersei looked back at her husband with a defiant spark, "It just seems a little odd that whenever she visits, you seem to forget that you have your own children. I know she's a bastard but that doesn't make her one of yours."

"If she wasn't my bastard she'd be my heir. She's older than Joffery," he remarked.

"She's a spy you know. Everyone knows," Cersei retorted.

"Never been proven."

"Because she's also _your_ spy."

They knew she had gone too far. Sandor looked out to the children while King Robert went on to counter her.

"Hold your tongue woman," his tone was hard. "Flowers has shown more dedication and loyalty to the crown than any of our children have yet. She's been more loyal to the crown than many of those sad piss head nobles in the courts. She's coming to make her report to Ned, it's all part of being the King's Hand."

Ned and Sandor made quick, awkward, eye contact for a moment. The Stark strode to the farthest side of the terrace and looked down at Sansa, his hands rested firmly on the stone banister. Sandor held respect for the Lord Stark, even if his honest nature and kindness wasn't wanted in court. He felt sorry for the Lord's little bird most of all. The Hound also looked away, only he looked to Joffery.

"She's a bastard from a Highgarden house. Her mother has no real title and her father is completely unknown."

"You know she has Lannister blood, her hair shows it. She is highborn, her being a bastard is beside the point."

"Don't taint the Lannister house with her kind. You know its rumored the father is actually house Dayne from Dorne."

"No matter who it really is-"

"She's still a bastard." Blue eyes flashed.

"And she's still related to you and I and our children and our family." Robert's hard tone suggested that it didn't matter where she came from, in the end, she was still coming to their castle. "Flowers will be a guest here at King's Landing and you will treat her as one."

Cersei gave up for the moment, knowing she wouldn't win, and got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. "Then I will go prepare for the Florent Bastard."

She departed and the king hardly watched her go. Ned turned round and went back to conversing with King Robert about things Sandor couldn't give a shit about. He began making his way down to the courtyard, taking a spiraling staircase down passed the other floors and King's Guards. He detested those stuck up swines. Walking around as if those cunts were saints. He would never become a knight, no matter how much the Lannisters and King Robert pushed it.

His mind, bored of nothing but children running around, wandered to the subject of Cersei's hatred. This Flowers woman was related to the Baratheons, another bastard to add to Robert's unofficial menagerie of illegitimate offspring. He smirked, bastards. Westros was crawling with bastards, he knew half of them in King's Landing had to belong to the fat cunt himself. Not to mention she was a spy, as Cersei said.

He stepped out of the stairwell and into the sunlight. He stayed in the shadows, his scarred and burned face kept him there, it only terrified the little ones, like Sansa.

Whoever she was, he figured she was just another bastard child. He expected her to be a young one, even though it didn't sound as if she was. She couldn't be too beautiful, if she was Florent. He had seen Stannis's wife. . .she was comely but not pretty. Cersei's infamous Florent bastard must be something like that. He knew he wouldn't have t wait long to see what she looked like, he wasn't interested in her but it would bring a new face to distract everyone.

Cersei and Sandor didn't have to wait very long.

* * *

The day for arrival was bright and breezy, a lovely blue sky with light puffs of clouds. A procession of horses was making their way into a lesser courtyard of the castle. Ned and his girls stood on the low steps awaiting their quest. As King's Hand, Ned had taken it upon himself to welcome his new political equal. Sansa stood as tall as she could and made sure her dress wasn't wrinkled. Arya fidgeted by her father's side, he looked down at her observantly. He gave her small shoulders a gentle squeeze of encouragement as the head of the party came into view.

When Florentine came to King's Landing she couldn't help but smile. She wouldn't get a royal procession, but she was welcomed warmly by her Baratheon extended family. Her long brown hair was tipped with silvery blonde and it whipped around her slightly larger ears in the breeze. She had high cheekbones found father south, full, pouting lips and startling eyes of violet. Atop her white and grey stallion she proudly rode into the front courtyard of King's Landing.

No one ever thought of her as a simple bastard by the way she sat tall in the saddle, the way she looked so elegant about herself. Her narrowed eyes lazily looked about, secretly observing everything within sight. Many of the household dignitaries to King Robert actually quite liked her, she knew that and used it. They greeted her warmly and with open arms. She smiled graciously and nodded to them as she rode up to the steps.

There was Ned Stark, a man she had never really met but heard about constantly. She lightly jumped down from her horse and looked back at her gathering entourage of fifteen other people. A group made of her various keepers, advisors and handmaidens. Many of them had been following her since her first steps. She smiled and turned back to face the Stark. She found him handsome and instantly liked him.

On either side of him were two girls she assumed were his daughters. She lifted her soft brown and dark teal skirts, her bright Florent flower peppering the brown under dress. She went up the steps and when she reached the King's Hand she extended her own and looked into his eyes. Her purple orbs met his blue ones and he smiled back, and felt their instant connection.

He took her hand," Welcome Florentine Flowers. Welcome to King's Landing. My name is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, King's Hand. These are my daughters, Sansa," the red-head with his blue eyes. She curtsied sweetly and offered a timid hello. "And Arya." He nodded to the smaller girl with darker hair.

Florentine beamed at them, "A pleasure to finally meet you and your family Lord Stark. In truth, I've heard much about you from the time I was small. It's a pleasure." She looked down at the girls. "It s a pleasure to meet you as well girls," she looked from one to the other. "I hope we can be friends since I'll be working with your father."

Sansa smiled and nodded. Arya smiled out of politeness. The eldest Stark girl liked this newcomer, she was kind and beautiful already. The younger sister knew she was kind but had more urgent matters on her mind. Matters of the sword. Florentine looked back to Ned.

"The servants will take your things to your apartments," he said as he led her inside. He offered his arm and she took it happily. "If you would allow me to escort you."

As they walked forward Sansa and Arya dutifully followed their father. Along the way Florentine asked about his son Bran.

"I caught word of his alignment and I must say I'm deeply troubled by it. Such a terrible misfortune to befall one so young." She looked to him with genuine concern.

Her truthful concern was clear in her eyes. "I thank you Florentine. It is a difficult time for our House but we're holding strong."

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I've heard your wife is a very strong and brave woman."

"I was unaware that she had stories told of her."

"Not court stories of course. But I have heard of you and your wife and from what I gather, she's quite a woman. And your daughters are simply darling!"

Her words had an effect on Ned. They had just met but already he felt she was trying to tell him something. She spoke highly of his family though they had never met before. He did know a lot about her from Robert; the King adored her as if she were his own child. She rose to her position after years of being a traveling ward. Sent from house to house who were allies and friends to the Florents, taking in the bastard on behalf of Rylene Florent.

Somewhere along the way she became an ambassador from Highgarden to their neighbors of the south; Dorne. Being an outcast of Westros, a bastard, was her greatest achievement in Dorne. Being everything that Westros hated, Prince Oberyn took her under his royal wing. With such deep and strong ties to the courts of their southern kingdom, King Robert often asked for her to come visit King's Landing. She became his official Dornish ambassador, and close friend. Being a lone female dignitary in the court's of King's Landing was rare. Even more so for a bastard.

He listened to her go on about her latest travels to Dorne and he listened with interest. She told him of the lands, but was saving the politics for the upcoming meeting that night. She spoke highly of Robert here and there, how he was very generous and kind to her over the years, something her lowly status didn't deserve.

"Oh and I have not yet seen Lord Tyrion!" She suddenly exclaimed as they strode down the hall to her chambers. "Where is my cousin?"

"I'm afraid he did not return with us from Winterfell," Ned informed her. "He chose to journey to the Wall and see it for himself."

She nodded, "Ah dear Tyrion, so far away when I decide to visit. Do you know when he shall return?" She asked kindly.

"I'm afraid I can't be certain," he returned.

"Hopefully he sees nothing but safe travels. I'm sure he is, though I wonder its freezing so far up north." She smiled and looked at him.

The man nodded, "Yes, he's with my son."

"Oh? What's this I hear? To be a Ranger beyond the Wall?"

"Yes."

"Jon promised me to be careful before he left," Arya chimed in. "He was teaching me swordplay before. Ghost was his dire wolf, he went too."

Sansa hushed her.

Florentine side glanced at Ned. "Would this be your bastard we're speaking of?"

He nodded. "Yes, Jon Snow."

"A Northern bastard," she said as if musing with the idea. "Must be a strong lad if he comes from you. To be personally chosen as King's Hand," she tactfully changed the subject. "After all, King Robert went all the way to Winterfell to ask you."

They stopped outside the doors as they were opened and he walked her inside. As her house was brought up to the rooms Ned bowed his head to her. Sansa and Arya stood by and watched with curious eyes as her belongings were brought inside by a procession of servants.

"If you'll pardon me, I'll leave you to arrange your chambers," he smiled as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She nodded. "Where shall I find you, should I need you?"

"I shall be residing in the Tower of the Hand. I'm not sure where you could find King Robert at this time, I'm afraid. It would be best to inform him you have arrived, he will be happy to know."

She nodded again, "Thank you Lord Stark, I do need to find him and have a word or two with my cousin the king. Thank you as well for your hospitality and kindness, I'm sure we'll it will be a pleasure to serve alongside you."

Just before he left he could see the happiness in Sansa's eyes as she watched Florentine's things be brought in. He realized that it was exciting to see and meet people of the court. Florentine was from a house farther south, in Highgarden. He could see how intrigued his daughter was. The Stark knew Flowers could be trusted, already he knew she could be trusted in this dangerous place. Something told him that and he latched onto it.

"Perhaps it would be alright for Sansa to stay with you?" He mused with the idea, imploring Florentine. "If it's not too much trouble. I'm sure you've heard of her intended marriage to Joffery, it would be good for her to start learning the ways of King's Landing court."

She looked at him first with an expectant face, and then at Sansa. The little girl was bright and cheery looking. Her eyes so full of life and promise. Florentine saw much of what she wished her own life could have been. She knew the underlying reason Lord Stark wanted her to take Sansa; to protect her. After all, Ned was probably absent from her a lot and in this strange place, and she had no mother here. The Fox was sure no one was truly helpful to the girl's well being, everyone was Lannister sent no doubt.

She nodded happily, "But of course Lord Stark! I would love to have her in my company! I love making new friends."

Ned wanted to sigh in relief, now was a fragile time, he could feel it. They all could. He knew Sansa would be safe in Florentine's hands. He left them with that. The Fox turned to the Wolf and smiled. She took the young one under her arm and led her forward as her things were unpacked and arranged.

"Now how would you like to help me arrange this place? Hmm? As I begin your lessons in court life, you'll help put my chambers to right." She smiled kindly at the girl.

"Thank you Lady Flowers, I would like that very much," Sansa grinned excitedly and couldn't keep the expression off her face.

Florentine smiled brightly. "Let me introduce my people Sansa." She waved her hand in frnt of her in presentation.

One by one her closer entourage of advisors and handmaidens came forward. Oldest to youngest. Ten people in all who appeared closest to her, five elders and five younger. The youngest five were all the same age, her handmaidens. Flowers started at the front of the line with the oldest man in line.

"Maester Ryden and Arriatny of house Yelshire," The Measter and the oldest woman, both had graying hair, aged faces and the most youthful bright blue eyes. "They raised me." She smiled.

Next came two men slightly older than Ned, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. They were muscular, handsome and had swords at the hips. "The Oldflowers, Clement and Duncan. They came to the Measter's aid when he called for sworn shields to help protect his ward and wetnurse. They have protected me ever since I was babe, they were but young boys themselves."

Moving on the next person, a man the same age as the men before him. He was comparable to Ned in stature, but not as tall. He looked foreign and had wispy yellow hair with dark river blue eyes and tanner skin than the others, but still fair. He wasn't bulky like some of the guards at castle, but it was obvious that he was a fighter.

"Keaton." She smiled affectionately at the man, and earned a small smirk in return. "From house Fowler and friend from Dorne."

Sansa looked up at the towering man and was intimidated. Florentine chuckled and gently pulled her along. The last five of the group, the Stark guessed to be Robb's age, were all girls. They were the handmaidens of Flowers, all had chesnut colored hair with a lovely red sheen. Sansa couldn't help but think they all resembled each other in some way or another, mostly the hair.

"Girls from house Pommingham. I spent a lot of time there and these little ones grew up in their orchards. Their parents wanted them to have a better up-brining and asked me to take them as my handmaidens." She pointed to each one and said their name, "Aella, Siggy, twins Heather and Helen, and Trinnia." They curtsied to Sansa as each name was called.

She stepped back and smiled at them all, "They are my family, besides King Robert. Everyone, Lady Sansa Stark!" There was a chorus of hellos. Florentne laughed musically and clapped her hands. "Now enough with introductions! We have work to do," she took hands with the Stark girl and quickly flitted away to the other side of the room.

Her people all smiled and separated to work. As they went forward with the arranging, Florentine couldn't keep her eyes off the child. Such a lovely little girl of twelve or thirteen. When she was that age, the bastard had long since been flowered, and long since been departed from home. She rolled her left shoulder while they spoke, she caught herself and quickly jumped to praying that no one from her house would see. But they did.

The eldest of her service, the man who was entrusted with her since birth, saw how that shoulder pained her. He knew why. She caught him staring and her eyes widened for a flash of a moment.

"What do you think should be done Measter Ryden?" She asked. An expectant Sansa sat atop a trunk and looked back at him. As did a standing Florentine.

He didn't notice that they had been talking about the placement of a few trunks and items. He nodded.

"I trust the young Lady Stark's opinion Lady Flowers," he responded. His voice droned on in a sad way, but only Florentine heard that sadness.

She stared at him, "Yes dear Sansa we trust your capable hands."

He looked at her shoulder and she shook her head no. After which, she turned to Sansa and devoted her day to the girl. Ryden knew what lay under her clothes, what scars she bore. He could tell that it still affected her to this day, and he doubted it would be the last scar she received. He watched her with the Stark girl, saw how his Fox took a quick interest in her well-being.

He feared for his ward every time she went to King's Landing, and every time he had been there to watch over her. But there was unrest after Jon Arryn's death, unease and unrest. He knew that, as it always happened, his Florentine would become caught in this ugly web of politics. He didn't want to see her be tangled in traps she couldn't escape. She may be the Fox, but the hunters were a force to contend with.

Only an hour or two had passed with Florentine and Sansa, and the Florent was due to go find her hosts. After setting everything to right she ordered various tea cakes brought to her room. After asking the girl what her favorites were, lemon cakes, she ordered them be brought to her room. When they arrived the Fox and the Wolf sat down to enjoy the moment o their day. To pass the time the older asked the younger questions of her venture out to King's Landing from Winterfell.

They spoke of Sansa's home, of her brothers and their dire wolves. Florentine offered deep condolences for the unjust trial of her wolf Lady. It was then that Sansa went into the story of the incident with Joffery at the river. It started off as a happy little tale between her and her prince.

"We just went for a walk along the river. We found Arya and the butcher's boy practicing sword fighting. Joffery and Arya got into a fight and-"

She suddenly stopped and looked guiltily at Florentine before going silent. The Fox noticed this and leaned forward, her eyes blazing with the hunger for knowledge. She gently put one hand on Sansa's and held her comfortingly. Her intense violet eyes bore into the girl with gentle encouragement.

"Go on Sansa, I won't tell anyone. I promise." Her words were dripping with sweetness and a strong promise.

Sansa, quickly deciding it was safe to trust her, nodded. After all, Florentine wasn't a royal, she wouldn't tell Cersei. Her eyes shot downcast before looking back to Florentine.

"It was Joffery's fault," it was such a relief for the poor girl to tell someone the truth. "He attacked Arya and the butcher's boy. My sister's wolf, Nimera, bit Joffery and then ran away. Not mine. Queen Cersei had the boy put to death, and my Lady. She said it their punishment for harming the prince." She stopped and looked down again, her eyes looked close to tears.

With a sad frown, Florentine reached over and pulled the girl close to her in a hug. "My dear thing," she said softly. "I can tell you've wanted to say that for a long time now." She nodded in her arms. "Never be afraid to tell me the truth, I would never betray you. Never!" It was an unofficial vow to the Stark girl from the Florent woman, and everyone who heard knew.

With a lingering moment she looked down at the girl in her arms. Something was creeping into her mind that she didn't like, ideas and thoughts that would get her killed if she ever thought to bring them out. She looked at the ground behind Sansa and she was suddenly itching to go somewhere no one would ever think to find her. But she was unable to depart from the castle at that moment and had to accept it. The door was flung open and she moved away from Sansa, her thoughts leaving as well.

When Florentine looked up her eyes lit in joy and her face broke into happiness. She gently released Sansa and stood up, her eyes grew large when she saw her king. Her legs were quickly running to the man who walked in.

"Your majesty King Robert Baratheon!" She shouted as she dipped into a curtsy. Her eyes only looked at Robert, not to his wife and son that stood behind him. "It is an honor to be summoned back once again." She stood to her full height and smiled at her cousins.

Robert laughed loudly and wrapped her in his arms in a bear hug. She was engulfed by him but laughed and returned it. Over the years they had developed a non-sexual relationship in which she was deeply devoted to him and he her. Never having grown up with a father, when she was given to the King's Landing courts, the king took an interest in her. He had no daughters at that time and it wasn't too long after his rebellion, he welcomed the Florent bastard, his cousin by marriage through his brother's wife, graciously into his home as one of his own.

Of course, he could never give her what he gave Joffery, like the crown, but he gave her comforts to help her live happily. No one knew why he did it. Perhaps it was the simple fact that they were related through blood and marriage now. Her cousin Shireen was Florent and Baratheon, connecting her to her dear King Robert. In any case he adored her and cared for her.

"Don't be so formal Florentine!" He shouted boisterously. "You are my cousin! And an honorary guest. I'm disappointed you didn't seek me out sooner." His tone was in mock reprimand.

"I can not make excuses to a king," she said with a sly grin. Her gaze lingered for a moment in Cersei's eyes and she shivered. The Queen was so cold to her. "But I was certainly just about to find you. Little Sansa here was helping me put my apartments to right and we were off to find you."

* * *

He heard her voice before he saw her. It was the equivalent to honey to his ears. Soothing and calm, yet playful and sly. Once word reached King Robert that the Florent had arrived he gathered his wife and children and rushed to meet her. Sandor had, of course, been forced to go with them. He was beginning to be irritated that he had been in the Lannister's service for this long and still was about to meet someone he didn't know. He was Joffery's sworn shield dammit, he should know every fat cunt that comes within two feet of Joffery.

He may not have particularly loved the boy, but he took care of him and kept him safe. Cersei often remarked, to others in private, that the prince even looked up to him as a father figure. The Hound took it begrudgingly. As Robert swung the doors wide and waltzed in to see his guest's rooms, Sandor watched Cersei's face. The queen showed nothing but contempt and unrest, she really hated the woman. Whoever she was, to gain such contempt from the queen was a dangerous thing.

That's when he heard her voice. It came to him and he had to cock his head and take in more of it to understand what he was hearing. A woman's voice that he suddenly wanted to see the source of, to see what creature she could possibly be. Hound had never cared for a woman, not since his sister had turned up dead in her own bed. His brows came together in concentration and he absent mindedly followed Joffery and his siblings into the room.

Robert was embracing a young woman with brown hair. She was shorter than Robert, and the Hound couldn't see much else. He looked to Cersei and saw her holding her two youngest children, Joffery stood by her looking like a pathetic pouting prince. He copied his mother in the way she glared at the bastard. Sandor wanted to scoff but he remained silent, any noise would be a betrayal in Cersei's eyes.

The moment the new guest stepped away from the king, Sandor saw her. It was the first time that the earth stood still for him. It was the first time nothing else mattered other than that one being in his line of sight. Everything in his vision went black except for the female that stood before him, the female he doomed with his love. All he saw was the woman and every detail about her.

Her outer dress was dark blue vines on a blue background. Her under dress was a deep forest brown with the flowers of house Florent evident, her long billowing sleeves were off the shoulders. Her high cheeks bones and fair skin contrasted the sharpness of her fox like eyes.

Sandor couldn't believe what had just happened in that moment. Her eyes met his from across the room and her bottom jaw dropped just slightly, her eyes grew a little too wide. He knew she felt him.

She blinked a few times and went back to smiling at Robert. In the blink of an eye the moment was gone. She was reeling on the inside. A literal knight in shining armor stepped through her doors and as she saw him she froze. He wasn't particularly handsome; half his face was covered by his scraggly and dirty hair. He didn't look too kind in the eyes either. He was taller than her, she would see that, and had the darkest storm grey eyes.

She snapped back to attention and spoke to her king. He waved his two youngest children forward and Cersei made him wait a moment, throwing him the most wicked of glares, before walking forward with her two in her hands. Joffery walked forward as well. Florentine did nothing but smile as they were properly introduced.

"It's high time you met them Floren," he said, using the name only he called her. "This is Marcell and Tomen." He beamed as she bowed graciously to them.

"A pleasure to finally meet you your Highnesses," she grinned and they giggled.

When Florentine stood back up she met the blue eyed stare of Cersei. The Fox merely smiled at her, "Your grace. It has been much too long. Have you been sleeping lately?" She suddenly looked concerned. "You look tired."

It was a jab at the faint lines of ageing showed on Cersei's face, very faintly.

"You look well yourself Flowers. Tell me, were your travels dangerous? After all, being a bastard your journeys must be fraught with people looking to harm you."

A threat to Florentine's life on the road.

The Fox and Lioness held a brief moment of silence that only they held. Everyone else simply saw the stiff kindness and words they passed to each other. King Robert was simply watching and smiled as he ruffled Tomen's hair.

"And this is Prince Joffery, my son and heir to the throne of Westros," he announced, holding a hand out to present Joffery.

Florentine, thinking he was going to be like his siblings, stepped forward and curtsied. "Your highness, what a pleasure to meet you. You and I are cousins you know, its about time we met." Her eyes darted to Cersei and back.

The boy gave her a skeptical look. "Why isn't your name Florent? Why are you called Flowers instead?"

"Because that's what they give to the bastards in Highgarden; Flowers. For that's what she is, a bastard." The queen's lip lifted in a sneer.

Florentine looked back at her queen and slowly lowered her gaze. Cersei had planted her claws firmly above Florentine and quickly drew her line in their silent face off. The Fo knew when best to recede, and did so before her royal overlords. She nodded slowly and looked back to Joffery.

"What your mother says is true cousin. I am a bastard." She straightened back up and looked at Cersei with a grin. "I'm one of the most infamous bastards ever to grace Westros."

She just bested Cersei .

As Florentine broke into a laugh so did Robert and the two were soon doubling over. Apparently it had been the funniest thing they ever heard. Cersei rolled her eyes and looked out the window across the room. Marcel and Tomen giggled too, following after their father. Their mother hated how they liked the Fox, hated it. She looked to Joffery beside her and looked back, his sweet face and bright eyes mirroring her own feelings. At least he was on her side.

Much to Cersei's distaste, the king had his bastard cousin link her arm with his as he led her out of the rooms and to his great hall where food was being served for supper. The rest of the royal family followed behind, including Sandor and Flowers' handmaidens. As they passed each other, eyes of violet and grey met, a thousand words silently said. The women walked a little ways behind him and he could hear them whisper about his face. He knew they were. He simply stood taller and put a heavier thud into his walk.

He couldn't help but think of her and hang on every word she said. Unbeknownst to him, she couldn't keep her mind from his eyes. She was unable to listen to him speak or so much as have a word with him. She didn't even know his name, someone threw in that he was called "The Hound".

"The Hound," she hummed in her head.

* * *

"Varys!"

"Flowers."

"Three years has been too long my friend."

In the feasting hall, Varys as embracing his Florentine friend. The Fox and the unic had been allies for a very long time and had come to an understanding of one another. They had gravitated together in her early court years, and became steadfast partners. She was the one who earned his respect, and after proving herself to him he became one of the few people she trusted.

The bastard had her arms hugging the shoulders of her larger friend. He was genuinely smiling as he embraced her and they fell into step and began talking. She relayed her times traveling in the past few years, and he relayed the coming of Ned Stark and the death of Jon Arryn.

"I met Arryn once or twice," she remarked. "Right informative man, he was. Always had a thought or two to spare about the Lannisters."

He looked at her at a side glance, "Yes, he did. That's why it's he 'did' instead of he 'does'."

She nodded solemnly. "Enough with the dark dark past. What of our present? Or our future?"

He grinned.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at future telling. But the present is quiet news worthy."

She laughed gracefully. "You know how I love a good gossip."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked at her with a sly glance. "Oh I do. So do many."

She winked at him. "Those who know don't know they do. Let's have it remain that way." Her goblet saluted him.

He tipped his cup back in response. She wrinkled her nose playfully and she giggled. They fell into idle chatter and sat down side by side. Nearest them was Lord Stark and his daughter Sansa, Arya was not present. Florentine laughed and drank in peace, no one bothering her. As the night wore on she was pulled to dance with various people. She couldn't help but feel the stares or hear the whispers. So many eyes caught her and then darted away, many stared her down, judging her.

She flounced off of the floor and made her stately way back to her table. She plopped down in her seat and looked to either side of her, Varys to her right, another noble lord to her left. Most people of the King's Landing courts annoyed her, so boring compared to Dorne. But, for the sake of those she had made friends with, she bottled up her boredom and chose to amuse herself.

The face of a man swam back into view. A sworn shield no less, she didn't even know his name, or anything about him, but she wanted to know more. She saw the Starks dance across her view and clapped while laughing. When they passed, her smile became a smirk and her eyes narrowed as she let the wine begin to take her. She loved wine, she was friends with it.

Wine, sweet red wine, eased her in ways she couldn't normally be soothed. Unable to take out sexual needs at her age, wine was a constant release. Her eyes closed then, and she licked her lips. The moment they opened again she saw those very eyes, those grey eyes. They were watching her from across the room, and she stared back.

This continued, and she became frustrated. This was no place, nor the time, for flirtatious thoughts. She scoffed to herself when she thought about the complications that would arise from her choosing a husband. She wasn't even allowed to marry. With effort, she was able to divert her thoughts and turned to the Starks.

She liked Ned already, and his children were absolutely sweet. Her people were mingling about the room, the Oldflower men and Keaton stood near her. Ryden was with Pycell and Ariatny was back in her rooms asleep, the poor old thing. As the night wore on she saw a lot more of the Hound. Thankfully, Robert kept calling her to his table to say something happy about her. Each time she went to him her eyes stole a lance at the man not too far away.

After one such event she was praised for her healthy connections with Dorne. Her smooth skirts rustled as she sat in her own seat. Varys was gone but the other man still sat to her other side. She propped one arm on the table, her chin on her knuckles, and turned to him nonchalantly.

"That man with the scars on his face, Joffery's shield. I noticed him earlier but I don't believe I've ever met him."

"He goes where the prince does, never leaving his side, if you haven't met him it's because you hadn't met Joffery. That's Sandor Clegane, brother to "The Mountian that Rides". You know, Gregor Clegane.

She knew the Mountain, oh she knew that one. A man who had haunted her darkest nightmares since the moment she laid eyes on him. Ever since she was a small child.

"Yes, the Clegane brothers. I heard of his scarring but never knew to what extent." She looked sympathetic. "With such a disfigurement he must scare children. Does he not?"

The man laughed, "Of course he does. Something our prince likes to use when he doesn't get his way with other children. He has his Hound scare them away."

Another equally piggish man turned round and chimed in. "What he did to that boy on the King's Road. Tsk tsk, they say that, under the Queen's orders, he chased the boy down and ran him through."

Florentine was appalled by their careless disregard for the murder of a child. It made her think of him more, made her understand the Lannisters and their servicemen. Him, Sandor, the Hound. She shook her head and turned back to her food, all she could think of was him! Suddenly she wasn't so hungry for food.

Instead, her sight was hungry for him. She gave into her hunger and simply looked at the higher section of her table, where the royals sat on a higher platform. Lurking around behind them all was the Hound himself, a goblet of drink constantly pressed to his mouth. She did the same with her crystal chalice. Her violet eyes couldn't leave him, and she knew he kept looking at her, they looked at each other. Speaking a nonexistent conversation.

Eventually she looked away, turning to others around her. He became annoyed that she found interest in others so quickly. Perhaps she thought him too ugly, he often wondered how a woman could bare to look upon him. It made him feel withdrawn, but also mad at her. He wanted her to look at him, now began craving it. He scowled, making his face appear darker. His glare was thrown at the Fox and he didn't care who saw. But when she chose to look back at him several more times, she wasn't frightened by what she saw.

He was passing by a duo of middle aged court ladies when he picked up on their conversation. At first it was the same as the rest of the damned noise, but as he walked by he heard.

"That Florent bastard, such an interesting person."

A rude laugh, "If you think bastards are so."

"No, truly! Some say she can't love, she's never taken a lover before."

"That's not what I've heard. I heard she's a whore, for women."

"Well I heard she can't feel love. She can't feel anything. Her own mother cast her away as a mere babe, just out of the womb. Sent her straight to Oldtown with nothing but a wetnurse, just so the bastard would never see Brightwater Keep."

"So she's a virgin then?"

"That's what people don't know. On top of her suspicious reputation, her virtue is another rumor."

"The creature is built on rumors and lies."

He had heard enough. His step went down and he left them to stand by Joffery. The wine was so sharp and sweet, like Flowers voice. He could hear her speaking the entire night. She mostly spoke to Varys and Ned Stark, Ser Littlefingers was unusually withdrawn. Hound didn't like that, he didn't like the way the man looked at the bastard. It was so angry, so distrusting.

He drank his wine and his eyes darted from Cersei and Joffery and Florentine. King Robert stood up and began rattling on about some endeavor she reported from Dorne. Sandor stood there quietly as he always did, Sanso and Florentine in his sights. Both were the only people in all of King's Landing he would protect. She was virgin? He nearly expected all bastards to be whores. She could get away with being a whore.

He shook his head and scowled, enough thoughts filled his head to believe that he had known her forever. She certainly entertained him enough. It made him itchy under the armor. He hadn't said a word to her and yet he had thoughts of devious behavior with her.

It was Sansa that drew his attention to the dance floor. He saw her with her father, and among them was Varys and Flowers. They were dancing quite gracefully, and he wondered if she would ever look at him if she knew he couldn't dance. He drifted down to the edge of the floor, where a small cluster of King's Guard stood, watching the dancing ladies. Suddenly, the woman of his interest swirled by. Her skirts a flurry of blue and brown.

The bright blue flowers of Florent flashed in everyone's vision. Sandor appeared to be watching the entire crowd, but his vision intensified on the newest member of the Small Council, the only woman and bastard and member of Highgarden. He didn't pay attention to the music but if he had, he would have noticed that it stopped, he was too focused on the woman that chose to rest next to him.

He smelled roses and turned to his right. There she was, closer than she had been yet. He looked at her, she looked back and smiled. He didn't smile, but liked to see hers. She dipped a small curtsy and kept her eyes level with him. It was this close that she saw his scarring, and stared at it. But her eyes weren't probing, they seemed to take everything about his appearance into account. Not a flash of pity crossed her look, he liked that.

She didn't say a word to him, nor he to her. What would she say to him? She was a lady bastard, he was a shield. Instead she clasped her hands in a stately way and continued to stare at him. He looked forward and remained placid at her contact.

"I think scars tell a lot about a person's character," she chimed.

He looked at her, his bad eye looked down at her and she looked happily back.

"That's a piss head story, my scars don't show anything. Nothing but pain."

"That's something," she said.

He glared, she smiled.

"What?" He grumbled.

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face her and then grinned. "You seem innocent enough for a damn bastard. I heard that your virtue is a rumor."

Her smile darkened but didn't fade. "Yes it would seem so. All for lies I'm afraid. Why does my virginity interest you Hound?"

"It doesn't, Fox." He shut his mouth and stared ahead.

She was being forced to move on and desperately wanted to speak. But words eluded her, for the first time they left her. A grinned flicked upon her lips and she touched his armor with the tip of one finger.

"Until next time _Ser _Clegane," she had heard he detested that title and calling it would arouse what she wanted from him.

She turned on her heel and melted into the crowd. He was left there trying to stand tall. All he wanted to do was sling her over his shoulder, or throw her to the ground. Either way she would be naked and on her back, and he would be fucking her. He imagined giving it to her hard and cruel, everything that life was to him. She imagined smacking him with a frying pan, something heavy and cold. She wanted. . .

Just what did she want from him?

* * *

"I don't like her Jamie," Cersei said. "I hate her more and more each day she's here."

Her equally handsome twin brother, her lover, looked at her from his seat on the bed. Both had retired together after that night's small feast. "She's only been here one day Cersei. What could she possibly do to make you hate her in one day?"

She sneered. "It doesn't take more than one day for me to hate her."

He sighed in annoyance. "Stay away from her then."

His sister laughed mirthlessly and crossed her arms. Her normally bright eyes turned dark. "Joffery hates her too. That must justify something."

"Only because you do. Flowers has never done any harm to anyone, she's helped the crown time and time again with Dorne!" His strong features were mucked with skepticism at his sister's hatred. He never could quite understand the loathing that his twin and father harbored for the bastard. "She's never hurt you or your children."

"Our children," she corrected him in a firm, hushed voice.

He rolled his eyes and continued, "He's only mirroring your intentions towards her."

"If only Marcel and Tommen would."

He got up from their love nest on her bed. Still naked, and went to her. His hands cupped the sides of her face and weaved through her hair. He looked into her eyes to calm her down.

"Cersei, leave her alone. If you do she will see that and respect it. I know her and I know she will." His rich voice was soothing, normally it would help relieve her stress but not then.

She shook her head. "I don't trust her Jamie. Nothing about her deserves it." She looked at him curiously and slightly pulled away. "Why do you keep defending her?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not, you just keep fighting me."

"She's a _bastard_," she stressed the word bastard. "A bastard to a Highgarden house and some other unknown party. Mostly rumored Dayne."

"From Dorne?"

"Where else? You've seen her hair, you've seen her eyes."

"What eyes she has. . ."

"Targaryen eyes."

"Oh so now she's a Targaryen and Florent bastard!" He shook his head in disbelief.

"She's just barely old enough to be it."

"Listen to yourself," he pleaded. "You hate her for breathing, you want the children to hate her, and now you're claiming that she may be a bastard of Targaryen blood."

She turned round to face the starry night outside. "It would bring her end quicker."

"It's because Robert loves her more than Joffery. . ." the truth was spoken. "Isn't it?"

She looked away from him, half to the balcony. "He devotes all his time to her, every time she comes here. He's never touched her but does everything a father should; cares for her, gives her the finest, make sure she never wants for anything." She scoffed. "If he spent as much time with Joffery as he does with her they'd _be_ father and son. He'd love our son." The word "our" had an unknown implication that not even Cersei knew. Her and Jamie? Or her and Robert?

She turned away and looked out the balcony doors. Jamie followed her gaze and saw the dark sky pitted with thousands of stars. So that was it? She was jealous that Robert loved the Florent bastard more than Joffery. She hated her for that and seemed that she always would. He knew his sister and knew that she was truly sad about it, it was a crack in her stone hard demeanor. The poor bastard had unknowingly found the one thing that gave Cersei a personal excuse to hate someone in her already unhappy marriage.

He let her brood and then shook his head and walked forward. His footsteps were muted as he padded after his lover and reached out for her.

"Enough then, enough of the bastard."

She felt his arms encircle her waist. The venomous queen couldn't help but smile at her brother's affections. She let him turn them around and walk them back to the bed. There he laid her on her back and pulled her robe away from her body. His lower body settling between her willing legs. If the lovers had been outside they would seen the shadow that silently rustled the bushes. They would have seen the figure slip over the balcony railings and scale the wall to the larger veranda below.

The lithe figure stayed to the darkest shadows as they ran through the halls and verandas. They expertly slipped around the vine covered walls and secret nooks and crannies. They were quick and their lean frame allowed them to move quieter than a bigger man could. That is why the Hound didn't try to hide as he followed them. Going along as a discreet enough pace, they didn't seem to notice him far behind, nor did any other guard around seem to so much as hear the rustle of leaves as they went along.

Whoever they were, only the Hound was clever enough to track them. As the two played a secret game of chase, he thought about something from an old child's tale, the fox and the hound. The fox was a creature so quick and agile that none of the other dogs could catch it. Only the king's Hound could follow its scent, and follow he did. He knew the fucking stupid child's story, the best part is the sad version where the fox dies at the end. Killed on the mountain by the hound.

The creature sliding along didn't feel the touch of the torches like Hound did. The light that donned his face didn't touch them. His grey eyes merely watched in silence, he had a fair guess as to who this 'spy' was, where they came from. Hey obviously hadn't done damage, and unless he was instructed to hunt them down he didn't care enough to catch them.

As he followed, he suddenly recalled how the Florent's sigil was a fox; this person reminded him of one. He also remembered Cersei claiming that Flowers was a spy. It all came to a screeching discovery as the figure scaled up a tower wall. Right to the chambers of Florentine Flowers. The Hound stood in his own shadows as he stared up at the disappearing body, they vanished into the darkened apartments. He quickly darted away, making his way to the chamber doors two flights up. Like this spy, he knew the servant tunnels well and used them to his advantage.

The figure came in through her opened balcony doors, just as she left them. She crept to the vanity by her bed. She was untying the mask around her face when a voice made her jump out of her skin.

"Out late again I see," he said, the sound of his resonance cracked the still night air like breaking glass.

"Damn you Ryden!" She hissed in the night. She faced a chair on the opposite side of the room, where she knew he was.

He remained seated and didn't light anything, but she knew he was frowning at her. She could feel it in the air. He was angry, and expecting an important answer.

"Yes," she hesitated, but admitted. "I won't lie to you, not here."

There was a creak as she sat in her vanity chair.

"We missed you at the remainder of the feast. You didn't stay long after Joffery and Sansa left."

"I had other matters to attend to," she whispered.

There was a sigh and a pause.

"Where were you? Did anyone see you? Are you injured?" He asked her the series of questions in a tone that implied he had asked them many times before.

She shook her head in the dark.

"No one saw me, I'm sure of that," he heard the rustle of clothes and guessed that she was changing out of her criminal wear. "No, I'm not injured, not a scratch. It was just to feel this place again. It's been nearly three years since my last visit, I missed the castle and all its mysteries."

She pulled the long, form fitting robe off the back of her chair and quickly tied it on.

"I went to see Cersei. I wanted to talk to her in private first. But then I saw her brother go into her rooms, her brother Ryden!" Her voice was still a whisper. "And you can only imagine what he had to speak to her about." She didn't have to explain her suggestion.

"And what do you gather from their Targaryen practice? It must mean something to you if you talk of it now." He could hear it in her voice, some nagging suspicion that she had discovered not long before. Something she was obviously thinking hard about.

She was quiet before going on. What she was about to deduce could put the entire country in an uproar if the wrong ears passed by. She silently got up and crept across the room to Ryden, he waited patiently for her. Down on her knees, her hands clasped his in his lap and he could feel the tension coming from her. It made him concerned and he leaned forward slightly in seriousness.

"Before Joffery there was another boy child," she started her idea slow, still piecing it together. "Robert told me he had dark hair, like his own. But suddenly, after that poor thing died in the cradle, all of Cersei's children are golden haired." She gave a paused for thought, and it sounded deadly to her ears. "Ryden," she whispered. "Never has there been a Baratheon boy born with gold hair, never. But Lannister boys are."

Ryden knew exactly what she was saying. He knew exactly what she was now accusing, or what she had barely begun to understand. His eyes widened at the gravity of her words, his hands gripped hers with the same urgency. If the queen found out about Florentine's new involvement, she could have his fox child executed. If Robert would allow it that is. . .

"Florentine. . ." he said hoarsely, "What have you done?"

BANG! BANG!

They both whipped their heads round to face her chamber doors. The banging was loud and obtrusive in an irritating manor. They stayed still and listened as the banging persisted after a beat. Ryden didn't say anything as Floentine scowled and stood up. She strode to the doors and gently grabbed one handle of the right one. It swung inward in the middle of anther bang.

The man outside her door had his fist half way to her door. As soon as the torch light from the hallway spilled across her body and face, the Hound looked lost, confused even. She quickly observed him and found he was indeed taller than her. He was older, his hair scraggly and filthy, his armor dark and intimidating. But it was his face that she saw, badly burned and scarred, hidden by his hair.

"Yes?" She asked. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You're a fucking spy," he whispered harshly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and slipped outside the door, not the least bit frightened by him. Her door shut, leaving Measter Ryden to wait. Her arms were crossed as she came out and shut the door. She leaned back against it as she looked up at him.

"You don't know what you're say-"

"I know exactly what I'm saying. I followed you just now from the queen's rooms," he growled, pointing one dirty finger at her.

She slapped him. A solid smack to the face. He reacted quickly, purely from instinct, and grabbed both her wrists in his strong grip. She squeaked in the sudden force and he shoved her into a corner tucked behind the pillar standing by her door. Her skin was bruised as he crushed them against the wall, spread out to either side of her. She scowled back at his vivid grey glare.

"You wayward cunt!" She said heatedly. "Let me go! You can't do this to me!"

"You're a bastard, none of the guards will care."

"I'll call my shields. . ."

She tried to heave her body forward and then thrashed around.

"Call them!" He said in a harsh voice. "Give me an excuse to kill some outcast cock fighter."

"They could best you, you bloody prick!"

"Stop fighting me woman," he pressed her harder against the wall, flushing his armored body against hers. "Your damn noise will draw attention."

She squirmed when his plated armor dug into her. A grimace crossed her face and she snapped her attention to his eyes. "You holding me like this wont draw attention." She smirked.

He didn't let her go but lessened his holding instead. He readjusted his stance and couldn't help but notice her exposed cleavage. Her rounded breasts teased his sight, one shoulder of her robe slipping dangerously. His eyes dragged back to hers and he saw the taunt in her look, he suddenly felt frustration. She simply watched him react to her rebellion.

"They call you the Hound," she said. Thinking quick, she saw his manly urges make the slightest of appearances. It was enough for her to grab it, and use it.

"They call you the Fox."

"This is true." She was quiet. ". . .Why did you come here?"

"I know you were spying on her, sneaking around the place. I saw you."

She didn't look scared, she looked compliant. "No one has ever said that before."

He leaned closer. "You should be scared."

"Oh should I?"

Her coy game was a surprise, one he didn't think to waste.

"Yes."

She grinned, "You're hurting my wrists Hound."

He pressed closer, his face an inch from hers. "I'm glad that it fucking hurts."

She suddenly leaned forward and aggressively pressed her lips against his, a desperate idea of distraction. He was shocked but some force compelled him to grabbed her shoulders and kiss her with a furious passion. Her tongue wove in and out of his mouth, toying with his. She thought he tasted like deep red wine. His rough hands held her shoulders, his thumbs digging into her tender flesh. Her delicate hands wound around his forearms and she clung to his armor plates.

His knee rode up to nudge between her legs, pushing against the fabric of her robe and hitting a scared place. She gasped and closed her eyes, leaning into her tormentor. His mouth moved to her neck and sucked hard at the skin, she groaned in a silent plea for him to be gentle. His hand moved the already drooping sleeve down and it dropped low, nearly exposing her chest. His knee nudged harder and she moaned louder, and then it came.

One word that broke his spell, one word that foretold their entire futures. She didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, the way it came out sensual and low. Almost with a need that both of them wanted desperately to voice, but came out in one word.

"Hound. . ."

It was too loud for his taste. He clapped a hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes tight. He leaned in close and she slowly opened them. His stone grey eyes stared deep into her soul, she could feel his mind probing around in her innocence. His face changed then, flashed to something new; patience. He stayed like that, watching her face, watching her watching him. Deciding what to do next and if it was worth it.

He looked down at her half exposed chest, and back up to her eyes. He took a lock of hair and let fall through his fingers. He looked back to her violet eyes.

"Sandor," he said,

Before she could react he left her. The warmth of his close contact leaving with him, cold air rushing to take his place. She had been pushed up on her toes and stumbled as she fell to the floor. She grabbed her drooping sleeve and held it tight to her body. She watched him walk away, the clink of his metal fading away with him. She was furious at that lunatic. That insolent swine. She vowed to have her revenge, yes it would be glorious.

Ryden sat up in his chair when the door opened again. His ward shut it and then leaned against it and sagged slightly to the floor. In concern, he shot up and darted over to her, surprisingly fast in his age. He held her shoulders and she winced. He shook his head and hurried her to sit on her bed. He left in the dark and a candle was struck. It was bright as he came back to her and gently moved her sleeve down. Dark colored circles lined her skin in the span of a man's hand.

His eyebrows came together as he looked at her. "Who came to the door Floren?"

She fixed her robe and pulled down her bed covers. Silently, she settled in for the night and laid on her back. She turned on her side facing Ryden, her adoptive father, caregiver, confident, she sighed and shook her head.

"Sandor Clegane, the Hound."


	2. Chapter 2, Before Winter, Fall must come

Tales of Westros: The Hound and the Fox

Season 1, chapter 4.

Voices echoed through the castle walls. Laughter and chatter. People milled about, going from their day to day activities. The clink of chain mail and armor as the King's Guard passed. The occasional laughter or a giggling Lady. The toll of some far away bell. In the halls leading to the throne room, an odd pair of women strode towards room beyond.

Among the clicking heels were those belonging to Cersei, she saw the taller one and didn't try to hide her distaste. Across from her, ignoring her entirely, was Flowers and Sansa. The bastard had kept the little bird tucked tightly under her wing, and Cersei hated it.

In the weeks the Florent bastard had come she and Ned had secretly arranged to keep Sansa out of the wrong hands. They both agreed on who that was to be, unspoken. The Queen had her suspicions but no talking to her husband changed anything. Flowers was there to say, this time her visit was of an undetermined length. With Ned joining the Small Council and her back from such a long stay in Dorne, Robert decided that she was better use to him in King's Landing. Florentine was surprised but took the arrangement with grace, the Lannister did not.

She watched the two now, the tall thin brunette with silvery tipped hair, and the red headed Stark child. As they passed, the lioness wondered what they were talking about. They were holed up in Flower's apartments too often for spies to be entirely effective. What they spoke about was just as important to Cersei as it was that they spent so much time together.

They passed and the queen had to keep moving. She had no small talk to offer to the bastard that wouldn't set her temper aflame. It was bad enough that Fox was here and taking away her future daughter-in-law. She knew there were others who shared her contempt for the bastard, not everyone trusted her like the king did.

Florentine held her breath until the blonde woman passed. She had no desire to tempt the lioness today and was sorry they shared the same walk way that day. She let out a sigh of release and let her shoulders droop. She looked to Sansa and saw how cheery the girl was, an improvement since her arrival.

The other one, Arya, was often gone. She knew how mischievous children are at that age and so was not bothered by her absence. Besides, Sansa was the one whose life was at stake, not the younger sister. Not that Florentine didn't like her, she was a person to her own. Florentine saw more of herself in that one than Sana.

She smiled. "What does your Septa have in store for you today I wonder?"

Sansa laughed, "You always speak in questions."

She smiled.

The girl's outlook turned dismal. "She's going to talk about my flower again, I know it. Her and the queen keep preparing me for when I marry Joffery."

"Well it is a part of being engaged o the crown prince of Westros. . ." Florentine raised a skeptical eyebrow as she listened to her own words. She hated how involved this child was. A CHILD! Outwardly you could see no turmoil, only a smile. "it will make sense when you're grow my dear. You're still young. Simply listen to twhat they say and take it in. Remember it."

The girl nodded. "It's all they talk about. Its gets dull."

Florentine laughed loudly, her noise echoing from the walls. Behind them the Oldflower Brothers followed, watching their mistress carefully. The girls were spread throughout the castle, making friends and listening for what they thought would be useful to her. Ryden and her Dornishman were elsewhere, Arriatny was in her rooms, it got too much for her to wander around the palace.

The elder kicked the hem of her skirts as they walked along. She loathed to leave the youngling but knew she could not stay. She had to give her over to the ways of the world. They stopped before the doors and Sansa obviously didn't want to continue on alone. She stopped and stood there, hesitating, Florentine watched her closely, dreading what was to come next.

"I don't want to," she whispered.

Flowers hoped she wouldn't say it. "Sansa," her voice was low and she wanted to take her away.

She hugged her and pressed her close. In that embrace the child held her back, but Florentine was washed over by a feeling she knew would bring her death. She looked down and stroked the pretty red hair, it was so soft. . .so sweet. Those blue eyes were darling and that skin was-

"I know what it's like to grow up without a mother," she said. She hadn't actually told anyone about her feelings towards her mother. "You can always tell me anything Sansa my dearest," she told her, fingers tilting her face upwards.

They smiled.

"Now go speak of life with your Septa." Florentine laughed as she pushed the child towards the doors of the throne room. "And Sansa!"

The girl turned expectantly.

"Don't forget to give them sons," she meant it as a joke and winked. "They will never forgive you otherwise." The bastard left, unaware that her words had had an impact on the younger one.

They parted ways and Florentine went back to her waiting shields, she passed them with her chin held high, her pale violet eyes looking straight ahead. On the way back her men cast their stares to her and bore their looks into her skull. She felt it and pretended not to notice. She merely scoffed and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you two want?" She asked sarcastically. "I can practically hear you thinking."

Her connection to the Oldflowers ran deeper than people knew. The Oldflower name was derived from the bastard surname of the South, it had been nearly protocol for them to join. Not many bastards were born in Highgarden these days, when one of such value was born their house presented two of their rising warriors as her sworn shields. The house was proud and strong, they had been more than proud that such a bastard now commanded two Olderflower men.

Duncan spoke, "You show too much interest in the Starks." His posture remained straight, even as he spoke. His walnut brown eyes were clever.

His brother, "For your own good. You've become too attached to the girl."

"She's all alone here for fuck's sake." She argued, memories of her own lonely life came to play.

"She's a noble."

"Engaged to be married to Joffery Baratheon."

"And none of your concern."

"Shut up you two." She glared at them both, her gaze darting between them. Sometimes, not even she could tell them apart.

"You need to hear this," Duncan was the harder one on her.

Clement brought reason, "Remember whom you are loyal to first and foremost. Not just who you become friends with."

"Must you bring such dull and sad news?" She whined. Her ears straining in double time for words among the surrounding crowd. She was never resting in her hunt for knowledge, even the babble of the crowd had its usage. "I already know I have no friends, I'm not sorry for the inconvenience. It's the truth."

"Don't be so childish," Clement scolded. "You're past your twenty first year, you know friends are an illusion. There are only allies and accomplices here."

She frowned in annoyance. "You make me glum."

"The truth is such. But be happy!"

"Why?"

"You have the two Oldflowers to help you along."

She burst into loud, obnoxious, laughter. Her obvious mocking fit was beyond belief. Her feet stopped and she grabbed her sides in a show amongst the people. This was her return jest to them for getting on her temper. She was going to make a show out of them. After all, her reputation was already manic, outbursts like these were common, but not enjoyed.

"As if that is going to make my friendless experience more tolerable." She crossed her arms and gave them a lively smirk. "With you two as my shields I am never for a dull moment, even if its dull news. You two are such a pain in m'arse," some of the ladies present were shocked by her language. "I've dragged you all over Westros and Dorne, even across the narrow seas for ten years. And now here we are, back in King's Landing, and all I've got is you two. You make me laugh!"

Some of the men snickered at her show of foolery.

"Tournament." The word leapt out to her.

"You make me. . ." she drifted.

"The Mountain."

Her body locked in place. Her face drained of color and her jaw fell. She said not a word more and instead began swaying on her feet. The moment her face went ashen the brothers were tense and shocked. Duncan leapt forward and caught her in his arms while Clement drew his sword and started barking orders to clear a path. People with ties to Lannister moved slow.

Duncan needed to get her outside, but it seemed like the crowd was only talking in anxious whispers about her faint and show. No one was moving aside, too caught up in the excitement of her dramatic spell.

"Move!" Clement barked.

"What's going on here?" A King's Guard came forward, with one behind him.

"She needs air. There's too many people here, she can't breath," Duncan tried explaining.

"She fainted, please move for us!" Clement's voice was loud and persistent.

"This is the Bastard you mean?" This guard meant trouble and it only made a thicker crowd.

"She needs air now!" The one holding her shook from the strain of her dead weight.

The older guard pointed to him. "Sure you can hold her a moment longer. Now if you'd please move aside," he lazily waved his hand toward some people and ushered them away from the doors and to a place further inside. "We'll get her to the Sept and have her taken care of."

"No!" Clement sniped.

The guards were beginning to grow angry. "Get moving or there'll be trouble."

"There will be no trouble. Move your fucking ass and clear a bloody path."

Whoever spoke, the brothers couldn't see. But the people knew who it was and obeyed. A path immediately became apparent to an outside courtyard and the brothers wasted no time in moving. The guards hung back and glared at the man who melted from the crowd to approach them. He smirked with one side of his twisted face as he towered over them. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He walked passed them and through the opened path of people.

Clement stood with his back to his brother and faced the crowd, he saw who followed them and scowled. His hand tightened on his sword, but otherwise remained slack. Behind him, Duncan laid her one a stone bench and was moving the hair from her face. Faint color had returned to her lips but the rest of her skin was still pale. He saw a thick stemmed flower next to his feet, it smelled sharp and strong. He plucked it and shoved it to her nose. She inhaled and slowly drifted back to him.

"Wh..what hap. Where we?"

"Its' alright Floren," he called her pet name. "Wake up slowly and be gentle. You had a shock."

It came back to her in a flash. Her eyes shot open. "Oh Gods," she whispered. Her pale violet gaze went to him, her words came out in a hurried tumble. "He's here Duncan. He's here and he knows I am. He's going to get me this time, I know it."

He looked concerned. And leaned in, something wasn't right. She was off in the head. Clement glared at the Hound as he stopped in front of them. His grey eyes locked with the Olderflower brother.

"She sounds delirious." He said gruffly. "You should get her to her rooms, I'm sure she has enough bloody wine up there to quench the kingdom's thirst."

Clement knew it was true, she was a drunkard. But he refused to let this Lannister servant say so. He stepped forward to attack the man, but it was Duncan who intervened.

"Clement." He said. "The Hound is right."

The brother stopped. He looked back and saw Duncan holding their Flowers. He looked back to the Hound and glared at him with everything he could. The second brother rushed past and Clement hung back for only a moment longer.

"You." He sheathed his sword and leaned in, slightly up, nose to nose with the burned man. "Don't ever help us again. We don't need it."

The Hound laughed low and gruffly, "You're too fucking sensitive." His eyes trailed after her skirts over Duncan's arms.

Clement saw. "Don't ever look at her again. She's beyond your class of men."

The Hound looked back at him, "You need all the allies you can get. Especially when they know so fucking much."

The Oldflower man didn't spare another word as he darted after his twin. The grey eyes watched them as they had seen them come. As the crowd melted back into their normal drone he melted with them. He had taken a moment while Joffery was at lessons to track the Fox and watch her. It was his only reprieve from the day's bitterness. It made it even brighter that Sansa was with her, the two were meant to be together in this place.

"That was quite the show wasn't it?" Came a smooth beside him.

Sandor looked to his right and saw none other than Lord Baelish. He never cared for him much, even if he played the game well. Hound didn't respond.

"The Flowers woman. You saw, I watched you assist them. It's intriguing after what your brother did to her in Caterly Rock those six years ago." He looked at Sandor and read his chance of face. "You didn't hear? My, they kept it secret didn't they?"

Silence.

"He molested her. Scared her something awful and nearly raped her. Some say it was under Lord Tywin's orders, rumors do fly. I should be going now. Hound." He didn't seem to care there was never a reply.

As smoothly as he appeared, he was gone. The Hound could only keep walking. He knew that if he stopped he would murder the nearest person and then murder his brother.

* * *

The doors to her chambers opened and Duncan hurried in. Arrianty jolted from her sleep in her chair and calmly watched him enter. She saw an unconscious Florentine in his arms and went to get her salts. He laid her on the bed while his brother stood behind and anxiously watched. When their elder came to their side she first felt her forehead.

"She's so cold," she whispered. "What happened?" Her voice was sharp with the command to know.

"We don't know."

"We were walking and she suddenly went deathly white."

"It was awful. She heard something and then this."

They looked at her and saw her sweating in her sleep. The color was returning now and Arriatny decided that her salts weren't needed after all.

"Let the child sleep," she said. "She's tired. We all are."

Duncan sighed and stepped back. Clement stood by the bed.

"Did you hear what she did?" The old woman asked.

They shook their heads simultaneously.

"I heard nothing," Clement told her.

It was Duncan who focused on his memory. "She said _he_ was here. That he was here and he was going to get her. She was so terrified of whoever it was."

Arriatny closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Have you two heard that a tournament is in order for Lord Stark?"

"Yes."

"We have."

She sighed, "Among the contenders is the Mountain that Rides."

Both their faces flashed fierce young anger, signs of men in their primes. They didn't move, action was not garnered, instead they reserved their strength. But their emotions were clear in the way their eyes darkened, the way the angry creases deepened in their faces, how they both stiffened.

"You know how she hears more than she aught," her foster mother went on. "She more than likely heard his name, and the shock of him being near her again sent her into a spell of fear." Her eyes were old and pale now, as they gazed at her ward she knew she could no longer protect her as she once had. "She is the Fox, when a Mountain rides she must beware. It will chase her until her dying day and she will tire. When she tires the Hound will take her."

"That is the sad Fox and Hound tale," Clement whined. Ever the impulsive one, he took enjoyment in old tales. "Everyone knows how the Hound chased her and she ran into the mountain. The mountain was where the king and queen lived and the mountain obeyed them. He gave chase after the fox for weeks! Days and nights. . ."

"And the hound killed the fox on the mountain." Duncan finished.

"That wasn't the end just yet."

"I've heard enough."

They were silent.

"You don't believe in old tales Duncan. Not you."

"No, but I believe in prophecy."

"That's my part of our brotherhood. I'm the younger one."

Duncan was about to reply when a soft knock came from the door. It came persistently and the older brother stood. He went to the door and wrenched it open. There stood Ser Littlefinger, Duncan never trusted him. He knew that this particular Ser cared extremely little for his mistress.

"Yes?" He asked gruffly.

Baelish smiled. "I heard the commotion and came to see if our Council member is feeling well. After all, there is a meeting tonight, faint or not faint and she is requested."

"You really came to see if she will be there," he wasted to lies.

"If you want to put it that way," Baelish grinned at him, knowing the Bastard's entourage were so protective and secretive. "I inquired about her health first if I recall."

Duncan ground his teeth. "She's had a shock. I don't know when she will wake. If she is unable to attend, Measter Ryden will act in her stead. He knows all she does."

The other man, the shorter man, nodded. "May I ask why she had a spell in the hall?"

"Is that all you needed Ser Littlefinger?" He glared coldly at him.

"I was hoping to share the news buzzing most through the castle. The Mountain has arrived, with him here the tourney will begin, sure you've heard." He nodded nonchalantly at the door frame. "Just another drain on the royal expenses really, something you wouldn't understand." He grinned at his jab.

The door was closing.

"The Mountain has already spoken her name."

The door stopped.

He went on."He knows she is here." The news sank in for a moment. "That is all."

Duncan watched him walk away with silent rage. The door shut and he turned back. He stormed back to the chairs where his brother and elder waited. He paced for a moment, angrily in front of them.

"Baelish. . .He was so kind to inform us of the Mountain's arrival. As well as see about her place at the Council."

"There was a meeting then tonight?" the younger brother asked.

A nod.

"Well it doesn't look as if she'll be up to it," Clement joked.

Suddenly he broke, Duncan's passion came forward.

"It's not fair Arrianty. She had no choice. Sansa has no choice. They never had a fucking choice to be a part of all these politics. We did, we could have left her but we didn't. She never had a fighting chance did she?"

She knew his anger. Behind her back, her people voiced concern for her life. She was in danger no matter what she did.

"If you're afraid the Mountain will come for her, don't." The old woman was stern and her voice commanding. "With King Robert on the throne no one will harm her. He would send armies to save her if he had to. The Mountain will obey his king, more so the Lannisters, but that's what we know." She paused before going on. "What happened at Casterly Rock-"

"Won't happen again," Duncan said. His tone final. "Keaton, you or I will be by her side at all times. No exceptions."

Clement looked baffled. "But of course brother," he didn't know what else to say to appease the man. He stood and began walking away. "I will stand outside. You stay here and guard the terrace."

Duncan stood, happy with something to do. Arriatny stood and he turned to face her. Her bright blue eyes, pale, stared back with an old determination he knew was stronger than his own. She was from a harder time, he doubted he would ever know suffering and sacrifice like this woman did, her and Ryden, what they went through with the baby and under the Mad King.

"Winter is indeed coming Duncan. Flowers whiter and die in the Winter."

"Some don't." They weren't just speaking of the appending winter and how flowers would be affected

"This will be a long, cold winter child." Her words were a warning.

"But autumn must come first. Somehow, I don't think I'll fare very well in the fall. You were wrong, flowers avoid winter if they can." He looked at her before turning to go. His eyes confused with dreams and visions. Feelings he knew he had to believe in. "Flowers die in the fall."

He left. His sword scabbard clinking against his armor. Thoughts of his ward and of his future weighed down on him. he had doubts he would live through this stay at King's Landing. He ad a feling that he owuld never marry the woman he loved. All because he chose to serve a bastard. He chuckled and nodded o himself.

"It was a choice well made."

* * *

It was late at night when Maester Ryden returned from Council, and he didn't return alone. With him was Ned Stark. It was a surprise to those inside the dim chambers when the handsome Northerner came through the entrance. Florentine was sitting up in bed, her robe tight about her shoulders. Her girls were sitting near the open terrace doors, letting in the warm summer sea breeze. Her rooms had a view of the Black Water, she liked it.

When he came to her bedside, where everyone was scattered and milling about, they all perked up. Florentine looked truly surprised and taken aback. She went to fuss about her hair and mumbled excuses as her people greeted him. He said his helloes and was offered a chair. They all sat and she even chose to be seated with them.

They made a fuss over her. She waved them off in an irritated fashion, it was amusing to watch. Or so Ned thought as he watched them. He was vaguely reminded of his own family. She plopped down into a chair close to his and face him. Besides looking a little bedraggled and tired around the eyes, she looked otherwise lovely. He smiled.

"I do apologize for my ill manner of dress," she said once again. After taking a moment to realize that she was in the presence of a practical man, she turned her mind around and smiled warmly. "King's Landing protocol is a tad tiresome wouldn't you say?"

He nodded. "Yes, since I see no need for apologies. I came to see how you were faring. Well I take it?"

She nodded once. "Yes, thank you. Not that I expected anyone to, but you're one the first to inquire about it."

"That's not true," Arrianty spoke up. "A Ser Baelish came to see you shortly after they brought you up."

This was news, "Oh he did?" She asked. "And what did he have to say?" Her eyes darted to the book in Ned's hands, an old tome of sorts. She couldn't see the title.

"Only to ask if you would make it to the meeting." Clement said.

"And to remind us of the tournament," Duncan added, his voice flat and hard.

"The tournament! No more reminders of it, I beg you," Ned's voice was a joke and serious at the same time.

Florentine turned in instantly. "And why?"

"If you had been awake for the meeting you would know," Ryden said in an upbeat tone. His face turned serious after a sigh. "But this is not fun and games. We were informed that this tourney is only adding to a growing expanse of debt."

She looked shocked. "Our dear King Robert has put us in debt? I had no inkling." This was only partly true. She didn't know the extent and if only small tourney could make people concerned. . she dreaded to imagine the price.

"I don't think anyone did," Ned said.

Intense violet eyes swept over him, studying every detail about this man. She took it all into account. All she had learned over the past few weeks was enough for her to see him. She knew he needed her just as much as she needed him. His protection for her knowledge of the game. She would make him an offer to join forces, and she knew he would accept. The idea was spontaneous, she never followed spontaneous decisions.

She looked down at the hands clasped in her lap. "Shields you can retire to your night posts. Arriatny, take the girls to their chambers please. Siggy!" that one stopped. She was the oldest of the younger bunch. "Wine please."

They knew better than to question her in times like these. The girls went off, Ryden left with the Shields, Duncan cast her an angry glare. She didn't care, at the moment she wanted to speak to Ned alone, she was only allowing Siggy to stay. She knew the girl wouldn't speak.

As soon as they were gone and the wine was being poured, she started.

"Ned, you know a lot of how King's Landing has been run these past years. It's a shame you have to see that your friend, the king, isn't such as an involved leader as we would hope him to be." She drank.

Ned drank. He nodded. "Did you know? All this time, just how much we are in debt to the iron Bank?"

"I knew we were in debt," she looked down nervously, "Just not how much."

"Ryden can tell you," he said dismissively. "I've heard it enough."

Siggy stood to the side, awaiting for orders. Florentine nodded for her to sit and pay attention. She did so and watched.

"He will. I've been playing this infamous game of thrones my whole life. The past seven years I've been doing it for my own gain as well as Robert's." She tipped her cup to his. "My knowledge and deeds are his. At least between Westros and Dorne there is some rest. I manage to keep them settled enough. Dorne is actually full of very agreeable and kind people."

"You speak of the Dornish so fondly?"

"Yes!" She grinned. "Like a second family to me. I've spent much time over the years there. The Martells are a gracious house."

"Aren't they opposed to the Tyrells, and your house is bannermen for them?"

A laugh then. "A sworn house yes. But In Dorne, my status of bastard is what saved my skin. They don't hate us there like they do here. Because of that, they took a liking to me and accepted me. Oberyn is a particularly close friend of mine, it is because of his understanding that I can convince him to do many things."

"Understanding?"

"That first and foremost, I am subject to King Robert of Westros. As much as I love Dorne and its people, I am Westrosi. They know this and yet peace remains. I am privy to information of their courts no other Ambassador from Westros has ever been, you wonder why?" He nodded. "I am a bastard. I gain many secrets this way you see. Being a bastard gained me close to Robert, it gained me intimacy with Dorne, it freed me from the pressures of marriage at a young age; being a bastard I am not expected to marry."

She got on her knees and put her finger tips on his knees.

"I am willing to share many of this knowledge, my secrets, with you Ned Stark of the North. I pledge loyalty and will put my-"

He tried to stop her, "No! You shouldn't. Flowers, a pledge of allegiance is serious. You are sworn to the Tyrells, they are your overloads. To defect will bring punishment."

She shook her head. "Ned, I was only seven when I fled Westros. The rebellion was everywhere and we fled across the Narrow Seas. Ten years later I came back and for the past seven years I have been learning every trick in the game. I know much more than you and in truth we need each other." Her startling eyes met his.

Stark could see Targaryen and he had heard the rumors. He didn't choose to believe them. The rumors of her having Dayne-a house from Dorne- blood, now that he could believe. It was one of the few things that made sense in this place. A simple, trivial thing as a bastard's lineage, and it didn't even concern him.

"You see, I'm in fear for my life. There are more powerful people than usual, worse people. They're out to kill me and I know for certain it is true. In order for your protection I will govern Sansa and share with you what I learn." Her eyes swept down cast. She saw the title, Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. She committed it to memory but thought little of it.

Ned was silent. Siggy was quiet. She knew this was important and was confused. Florentine was risking a lot by swearing to the Starks. Her house was already sworn to Tyrell, she was born into their service.

"And you're wrong," Floren said. "I am Flowers, I may have Florent blood but I am not of Florent house. I have no house." She smiled, very much like a fox. All sharp teeth and bright eyes.

"Then I take your pledge and bind you to it. Your task is to watch over my daughter. Protect her, keep her safe. Doing everything in your power. Anything."

She looked into his blue eyes and stood. He stood with her. He was tall, not more than Sandor though. She blinked and looked over his shoulder. Why would Hound come into her thoughts at a time like this? The woman shook her head and looked back to the Lord.

"I swear it Lord Stark. I, Florentine Flowers Bastard of Brightwater Keep, swear it." Her voice was steady and strong.

He nodded. "I will leave you to rest now. I could do with some now."

She smiled tiredly. "I bid you good night Lord Stark." As he swept past she turned slightly, and spoke over her shoulder. "Also, give my regards to Lady Stark. If she has not left."

He had turned half away from her. He turned around at the middle to face her. His expression asked his question; how did you know? Of course no one had made an announcement to the public of her arrival. A Lady was always announced. Not this time, he hadn't told anyone how she was caught up in a brothel Petyr Baelish owned and ran. Disgusting.

"I shall, when I see her again." He avoided further conversation and made his stately way from her chambers.

Once the door closed, she sighed and Siggy went to her. She took her mistress's arm and the elder groaned in irritation.

"I feel old," she complained. "Needing assistance to walk, posh!" She side glanced at the smiling girl. She was a good seventeen, eighteen years of age. Nearly ready to be married. A little late in the game but she was now a refined young woman, instead of a fresh scented girl. She would be a good Lady, Floren though silently.

"And that is the game as you don't know it yet," she said dramatically. "You have to make strange propositions once in a while to get where you want and what you want my dear. Never forget that."

"I won't Lady Flowers," she replied dutifully.

"I'm no Lady, why do you insist on calling me so?" She was curious.

"You are our house. We are a house of many and you are the house."

Still, Siggy hesitated when she went to speak again. Florentine wasn't paying attention this time, tired and wanting to get back to her bed. Her maiden let go of her arm as she sat down.

"Duncan warned me to watch you. He and Clement, and Ryden, think you get too involved with the Starks. They wanted me to tell you to remember who you serve."

She chuckled and gave her a sly look. "What did Duncan say exactly?"

"To remember where your loyalties lay."

"So thoughtful he is."

"My Lady, you did think this through?

"I did."

The girl nodded and let her leader do as she chose. Florentine nodded to her.

"Go then. Go sleep and rest, it's been a long week. The tourney will be here soon and we need to stay on our toes." She laid back down to sleep herself.

Siggy got up and stood there. She curtsied and then clasped her hands together. Her eyes darted away from Flowers, that made her interested.

"Yes? Something else Siggy?" She inquired.

"I was there tonight after the meeting. I heard Ned give more soldiers to Slynt's command, funding is so terrible they need to find ways to strengthen the guard." She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling in the fire light.

"Is that all?" She asked expectantly.

"I heard them speak of Arryn. I was able to talk it out of a servant of Pycell after he and Lord Stark spoke alone. . .His last words." Florentine was waiting. "His last words were "the seed is strong"."

Her bright eyes turned thoughtful. "How very interesting. And it was Helen who followed Ned to the Blacksmith today?"

"Yes. Did she speak to you?"

Her elder nodded. "I just wanted to hear it from you." She stared at the younger one. "Go now!" She laughed. "I have to sleep, you do too. Good night Siggy."

She smiled and nodded good night before leaving. Florentine thought back to Helen's report. She followed Ned most of the time, upon her own orders. Helen was smaller, discreet. While she looked like her Highgarden counterparts, she could blend into a crowd easily.

"A boy," Floren repeated to herself. "Ned saw a boy, with black hair. And the seed is strong."

She closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Keaton was standing far to the west wing. Farther towards Robert's chambers, he stood at his post and looked out into the cold halls. His blue eyes observed everything around him. The stones in the walls, the curved of the hall, the wear of the floor. The torch light was soft. He heard footsteps and stood still. Someone was coming form that way, a King's Guard. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, the King's Guard were a joke, he always thought so.

He doubted any of them ever took it seriously and with grace.

But the one man he least expected to come his way did. Jamie, Jamie Lannister. He was a handsome with a flawless face. Blond hair, blue eyes, they were alike but not. Jamie seemed to size him up as well, but something in his face was kind. Keaton compared him to the imp, whom he had met and liked. Unlike the old lion and the lioness, these lions had hearts and souls. The other man stopped and the two stood in awkward silence.

"How is she?" It was Jamie who asked first.

"Asleep. She only fainted."

"It made quite a commotion today. They had a brush with the Guard today. If it wasn't for the Hound helping them there would have been trouble."

"Trouble from whom?"

"From my Guards I'm afraid," the Lannister was uncharacteristically honest. "They listen to Cersei just as much as they listen to me. The fat ones do anyway."

They looked at each other.

"Is it true?" Keaton asked. "About this king of yours? Is he there now, whoring? I hear things. . ."

Jamie nodded. "He would never do that to Florentine. For some reason he adores her. I can't tell you why but he speaks of her often and more than he does about his other children."

The Fowler saw a slight twitch hit the corner of his mouth. As if he didn't believe the words he was saying. The Dornishman didn't believe a man who didn't believe himself. He crossed his arms and was silent.

"He looks to her as his own, and nearly every bastard in this capitol is his. The only one in all of King's Landing that wasn't born here and he chooses to care for her. You can imagine how that would make his wife feel."

"I don't think I can," Keaton said honestly. "In Dorne, we don't hate bastards."

He bowed his head in respect when Jamie didn't say anything back and turned around. His footsteps faded into the night as he left behind the Kingslayer. That one may have had a different heart from the other lions, but he still wasn't a friend. This one still didn't understand, Keaton didn't hate the child when she had no say in how she was born. She was tossed into the game like so many before her, and he was going to help her through it.

* * *

The day had come. The Tourney of the King's Hand. She had her off-white and flower speckled gown with a darker blue under dress. She soothed the skirt below her high waist and stepped forward. Her handmaidens excitedly ran off to have fun, something she encouraged them to do. Arriatny had stayed behind with Measter Ryden. Keaton was the only one with her that day as she had deliberately instructed the Oldflower brothers to watch the elders. She knew Duncan would pressure her the entire time.

She was well aware that the Mountain was there. She heard it first and his reaction was strong. She knew the only way to keep him calm was to leave him back at the Keep. He didn't like that. But somehow the others had persuaded him to allow it, she thinks Siggy had a hand in it. In truth, her reason for wanting to come so bad were secret. She had her suspicions about her eldest handmaiden. She might be too good a pupil. . .

Florentine had come to see one person she knew would be there. She hadn't said a word about him to anyone, not even Siggy, but she had heard he would be there. Well, more that his ward would be there, but where the prince went He was to follow. Sansa ran ahead, her Septa following her, Florentine had come with the girl and they were looking for the other sister and Ned along the way.

"Have fun!" She called. The girl ran not too far ahead. "Go with her Keaton. Let her wander and watch her."

"And you?" He asked. She was his ward first of all, but if she was giving him an order he would.

"I'll keep you in calling distance," she grinned.

He smile and nodded, running off to catch up with the girl. He enjoyed children's company. This Stark was a sweet creature, he saw why Florentine was so caught with her. In trust of his mistress's judgment, he left her behind to tend to the wolf child. No doubt she would want to find Joffery and win back his affections. She told her new mentor that the prince had been angry with her since being bitten by the wolf.

Flowers shook it from her head and let the girl have her fun. With darker times approaching she would need good memories. She herself was entertained by all the banners and sigils. She glimpsed her fox and flowers among the colors, but made no effort to see them. She would not be welcomed by her mother's people. Theirs was a dwindling house. Shireen, and their distant cousin Sam Tarley, would be the only high born heirs, after which Florent would belong to her.

She heard a rise in commotion by the jousts, a large crowd was gathered and she guessed the royal family must be in their box. She was making her way there when something caught her eye next to a grand red tent; a fierce helm of a snarling hound. She felt an exhilarating tingle rush down her spine as she walked towards it. It was propped against what she came to realize was a Lannister tent. It was small but she guessed it must be extravagant inside, it made her feel foolish when it was the only red tent amongst white ones.

She looked from side to side and was thankful no one was watching as she went to it. Stepping on her toes she crept closer, the craftsmanship was stunning. She glanced back ahead and saw Keaton and Sansa, the Septa was with them. She turned back and peered into the closed tent, a voice reached her.

"Joffery! Take your siblings and go the stands, your father is there."

"Do they have to follow me?"

"Yes, now I won't hear any more fuss about it. You're merely taking them around the corner to the stand. I'm right behind you."

It was Cersei and Joffery. No sooner did the Fox hear all of this than she was diving for the bushes. Joffery himself exited the tent with his siblings in tow, his face was annoyed. As her pale eye watched him, she didn't figure him much for the brotherly type. She felt he merely tolerated them for no other reason than they were his innocent siblings. He lead them away, a minute later the queen followed suit.

Florentine held her breath from her hiding place. When no one else seemed present within, she moved to step out from her spot, only to be yanked backwards by a hand over her mouth. She tried screaming but the sound was muffled, the gauntlet hand was clamped tight. Her kicking and screaming were retained due to her skirts and the small space. She was pulled back in such a way that her front was stretched and she was soon rolled over onto her stomach.

She wasn't used to being accosted whilst watching and was furious and surprised. Whoever this was, they knew where she would be before she did. This was new, a new game with a new anomaly player.

"Stop screaming," a voice growled in her ear. "Or I'll give you a reason to fucking scream.

It was the Hound. She stopped and stayed still, trying to breath under his weight. Her eyes were wild and darting around the enclosed bushes.

Her face was smashed into the grass and her wrists were held down by his. He had settled between her legs and was pressing down hard with his armored hips. Whatever space they were in was very cramped and very hot. His breath stunk of wine, his body was hard and hurt against hers. Her hair was messed and undone.

He inhaled her scent, "Roses," he thought to himself. He spoke, "I knew I'd find you here. At this tent, spying on her again. You're a fucking idiot! Of all the fucking places to go and you wandered here. You're a fool."

"But not a bitch?"

"What?"

"If you were truly angry you'd call me a bitch."

"You're a bastard bitch," he twisted her hair around his hand and yanked.

She hissed and her head went back. He laid on her for a moment longer, only his breath and the people around them made noise. She was careful to measure her breathing so she got air, he was thinking about maddening it was to be in such armor. He groaned and lifted away only to force her on her back, she had no choice but to open her legs to him.

Her eyes caught a soft beam of light and he was shot. Her pale eyes blazed in the sunlight with a fierce streak. He wondered if her blood was of the dragon, or something else entirely. Either way she was worth coveting, at least to this beast. The way she gazed at him made him still for it wasn't with fear or disgust, it was with curiosity.

He snarled at her, "Look away." His order was low. "Never look to me again if you value your life."

"Why?" Her question was a breathless whisper.

"_Your eyes are too bloody innocent you sweet cunt_," he wanted to tell her. But couldn't. Instead he said, "I'm the only one allowed to touch you from now on. You are nothing but a bastard and no one will take a worthless bastard."

"What are you doing?" She growled. Her eyes scowled at the leaves in her line of sight. His games were irritating and tiresome.

He grinned when she wasn't looking. "You don't speak to me for weeks? I was going to treat you like a woman but now I'm treating you to how you're fucking used to. A whore."

Her eyes widened as he stung her dignity. "How dare you?" she hissed. "I am no whore."

"So the rumors are lies?"

"I said so already!" She whispered and it rose a little louder.

He suddenly grabbed the off shoulder hem of her dress and yanked down. Her cleavage was exposed and her cheeks burned red. She struggled to hide herself but he over powered her, putting a knee on a bunched up length of her bell sleeves. Her hand was hard to move under him, his hand grabbed her and squeezed, pinching her it.

He groaned and frowned. "Go ahead and scream. Everyone will see your bare arse standing in the middle of the road. Your dress will be mine."

"I. Am not. A whore," she growled, her gaze still averted.

"_I can see that you fucking tongue wager,"_ his thoughts echoed.

He pinched especially had and she bit her lip to repress a scream. He saw and his hunter instincts overwhelmed him. He wanted to catch her and fuck her. Love on her and care for her. Own her, control her. He wanted her fat with a baby in her so that he could fuck her then too.

Instead he leaned down to her neck and bit down on the skin, not quite breaking the skin but bruising it hard. She squeaked and her felt a moan purr silently in her throat as something euphoric feeling rushed through her. His hand traveled to her ankles, and lifted he skirt, snaking under them and up her leg. His mouth suddenly latched to hers and their tongues entwined almost instantly.

"_What am I doing_?" she asked in a terrified burst in her head. Her heart pounded hard, her stomach hallow, his saliva was sweet.

He kissed her with a messy, sloppy fever and when he came up for air he seemed to realize where his hand was. He stopped and yanked away from her.

"_Not yet,"_ he thought, "_not like this_."

Her pressed her shoulders down and kissed her again. When he pulled away she nipped at his bottom lip and caught it, giving it a sharp suck before releasing him. He pulled away and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back, he chest arched upwards. One hand still groped her. One of her hands suddenly shifted free and it drifted up to touch his face.

His hand caught her wrist and crushed it. A whole new pain filled her body and yellow stars burst behind her eye lids. Se clenched her fist and teeth.

"Sandor," she whispered his name so sweetly.

"Never touch my face." His tone had changed. It was like glass, tense, sharp.

She shivered when she heard the hidden threat, a real threat.

"A kiss for a departing participant?" She asked, her voice flat and pitched in the wrong places. It made her question expectant of an answer immediately.

He leaned down and gave her one death defying kiss. Hard and hot. She grabbed at the plates of his armor, pulling him closer. Hands went to his neck instead and she dug her nails into his thick skin. His shoulders tensed and she could feel his muscles move. His hard moved away from her skirts. When he pulled away she caught his lips again and pulled a little, she let go and he looked down at her.

"You're no "Lady" to be giving out kisses. Bastard fool," he said in a low voice.

"I didn't exactly give my kiss to a Ser. For you are no knight." Her eyes held a powerful stare of challenge.

Her lashed out and grabbed her jaw. He peered deep, and then let go and rolled to the side into an empty alley between tents. As she furiously began tugging her dress back into place, he sprang up and sauntered away with a casual appearance. He thanked the Gods that his armor hid his true intentions. Now the man was faced with two options, one involved suffering until his cock wasn't so stiff, or find a place or privacy to relieve his seed. He groaned, hiding it as an irritated growl, as he couldn't remember a time when he had been so fucking hard. He made his way to the stands, just past one more alley of tents.

Flowers smoothed her hair down the best she could, trying to sooth it back into her two tails of silver tipped locks. The bright blue parts of her gown were now smudged with dirt and she cursed him for it. She glared in his last seen direction and grumbled obscenities as she climbed out of the hidden space. She bushed he skirt off and fixed herself quickly as she emerged from the bushes and walked forward. She stumbled slightly and tripped on her skirts.

When she came out she forgot where she was. Her head light and dizzy. She had to turn in a full circle before remembering that she stood in front of a Lannister tent. She darted away, her eyes full of caution. The helm was gone.

She left that awful place and darted in a random direction, not really paying attention. She crossed tent after tent, looking for the blonde hair of Keaton, but she had forgotten which way they went. . .Where did they go? She remained calm, no trace of panic. She didn't scare easily, and getting lost was nothing new. Simply keep moving and answer to no one.

She was becoming more lost by the moment. She couldn't see Sansa or Keaton anywhere. The Mountain was here and she had lost herself from her protector. She knew very well she had no chance in fending him off. He was a monster. And here she was, cavorting with his brother, she felt so violated. She held her shoulders to comfort herself and continued along. Suddenly the flowers on her dress were a little too bright. She saw a tent with a tray bearer outside. As she passed she plucked the crystal goblet from his tray and waltzed away. She was so smooth, he didn't notice.

She took a sip and the red ruby liquid calmed her instantly. This was a sweet berry wine. No doubt this was a High garden house wine. She felt a moment of peace. Drifting along, through the soft grass. Her pace slowed and she inhaled deeply, the scent of lavender reached her nose, over the smell of horses. She was jolted to alertness by someone grabbing her arm.

"Floren!" Ned called cheerfully. "There you are!"

He twirled her about and she laughed as she balanced her wine. She giggled as he brought her close to him. With a happy sigh she put her had to his chest and he held her in his arms, she felt as home with the Notherner. Such a strong and comfortable hug, she melted.

"Where is Arya?" she asked suddenly as she pulled away, looking around.

He chuckled. "She's in the stands with her sister and Septa." He began leading her in the right direction. "I came down with the small thing after you and Sansa left. I found her and your shield, Keaton, the Dornishman." He nodded and smiled. "Keaton is a good shield. I left the girls in his and the septa's care. We're going to watch the Mountain joust the Knight Florwers next."

Her ears perked at this info. Glad as she that Sansa was safe and well, she heard His name. "Oh? Loras Tyrell? Renly is here as well?"

"Yes. Why do you ask about Renly?"

"Oh no reason. Curious you know! I am dreadfully curious sometimes." She laughed distractingly. "Too much for my own good. But the Tyrells are present?"

He understood her enthusiasm. "Your overlords aren't all here. Mostly only Loras and his entourage."

She sighed dramatically. "Well that's good!" Her eyes smiled at him, from her very soul.

He returned the same stare. They walked arm in arm to the stands. All the while Florentine was dying inside, terrified. The Mountain was up next, he would shed blood in her. She knew that's how he defined being a man, therefore he would shed as much as he could. He would want her to think him a man. It made her cringe. She wanted to run, but with Ned holding her, she knew no man would hurt her.


End file.
